


Red Tide

by Whatsastory



Series: Trope Me, Baby, One More Time [12]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23713660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatsastory/pseuds/Whatsastory
Summary: This is the a/b/o that no one asked for, but it’s not your typical a/b/o read, so just, y’know. Indulge me.***“I just don’t understand why you don’t love me,” Mickey cuts him off, and his voice has completely lost the hard edge, replaced instead by something mournful.“What? How do you think I don’t love you because of fucking ice cream?”
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Trope Me, Baby, One More Time [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668712
Comments: 11
Kudos: 162





	Red Tide

“Ay, c’you pick me up some ice cream on your way home?” Mickey’s muffled voice comes from Ian’s phone. “Like, uh, some rocky road, maybe? Or, what the fuck, double chocolate chip?” 

“I’m not gonna get off til late,” Ian tells him, checking his watch to see that he still has a full five hours left of his shift. 

“Okay? So you can’t stop by a fucking gas station?” Mickey snaps irritably and Ian rolls his eyes. 

“It’s gonna be after midnight, Mick. I’d really just rather come home and go the fuck to bed.” 

There’s silence on the other end of the line. Tense and tight as Ian listens to Mickey’s breathing. He can hear the tell tale sign of Mickey dragging on a cigarette; the deep breath in and the quiet crackle of paper burning. He waits, as is custom, for Mickey to take his turn in speaking, but nothing comes. 

“Okay, well. I’ll just let you go-”

“I just don’t understand why you don’t love me,” Mickey cuts him off, and his voice has completely lost the hard edge, replaced instead by something mournful. 

“What? How do you think I don’t love you because of fucking ice cream?” 

Flabbergasted. That’s the only real word for it. 

“I didn’t think- I would get it for you, you know? If you needed ice cream, I’d fucking get it,” he says quietly, and Ian does feel bad, granted, but he’s still utterly confused. 

“Well, if you’d go get it for me, why don’t you go and get it for yourself?”

The only sound he gets in response is a sobbing gasp, and he racks his brain for the million different scenarios that could be happening. 

“Mickey, are you okay? Did something happen at work?” 

“No!” Mickey cries. “I just really want some ice cream and I want you to buy it for me! I just need you to do this one thing for me, alright, this one fucking thing, Ian. Please!” 

“Jesus. Fine! Are you sure you’re alright, though? I can leave early if you need me to...”

“No,” Mickey says and snorts the snot back into his face. “No, I’ll be okay.” 

“Okay. Well, call me if you need me...” 

“I will. Thanks. I love you, baby,” Mickey says, and waits patiently for Ian to say it back. 

“Baby? Since when do you call me anything pleasant?” Ian teases, though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, if he said it didn’t give him a little tingle in the pit of his belly. 

“Fine, assface, don’t tell me you love me too. See if I fucking care.” 

And then the line cuts dead. 

Ian stares at his phone as it returns to the home screen, feeling his eyebrow hitch and his lips turn to a frown. He’s not sure what the fuck just happened, but he for sure knows he’s gotta pick up a fucking pint of ice cream before he goes home. 

When Ian gets home, with a plastic bag of both rocky road and chocolate, chocolate chip- because anything less would just be asking for trouble- Mickey is sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped around him. He peeks out of his little blankie hood and smiles, making grabby hands for his coveted treat. 

“Spoon, please!” He says and eyeballs each pint. 

Ian, once again, is thoroughly confounded by Mickey, and he stares as he tries to figure out the enigma before him. Mickey rips open the top of the double chocolate and runs his finger across the cream before popping it in his mouth and sighing like he’s in a fucking porno. 

“Ian,” he snaps again, realizing that he’s being watched. “Spoon! Thank you. Jesus, fucking weirdo.” 

Ian snaps out of it and heads for the kitchen, grabbing a spoon before he even has time to get his boots off or hang up his jacket. Mickey snatches it and immediately digs in, taking it seemingly by the scoop full. He licks his lips and sucks the spoon like it’s giving him life, growling into the pint like a rabid fucking animal. 

“Can you take your fucking shoes off and get the fuck over here? Fuck is taking you so long?” 

“Did I do something? Are you mad at me?” Ian asks as he takes a seat and unlaces his boots before kicking them off. 

“No?” Mickey says, eyeing Ian warily. “Fuck would you think that?” 

“Uh... I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Fuck ever. Stop being a pussy,” he demands and pats the spot right next to himself. “I ain’t gonna cuddle myself, numb nuts.” 

“Cuddle? You want me to cuddle you?” 

Ian looks at Mickey, really fucking looks at him, because he’s not entirely sure that this is his husband. Like maybe his Mickey was abducted by aliens and replaced by a look alike, and that look alike thinks this is how normal people behave. 

“Ian,” Mickey whines, and as he says it, his chin starts to quiver. 

“Jesus Christ, no. I’m coming,” he says and scoots over, wrapping his arm around the big bundle of blankets and pulls Mickey against himself. He does his best not to dislodge the cocoon that Mickey’s built for himself, even though he can’t see the tv over the top of Mickey’s blanketed head. It’s worth it when Mickey sighs contentedly and goes back to eating his ice cream. 

“S’good! Here, take a bite, babe,” Mickey says and holds out a spoonful for Ian to take. Ian does, and keeps his eyes trained on Mickey’s happy little face as he swallows. 

“It is really good. I’m glad you like it.” 

Mickey hums his appreciation for Ian’s appreciation, and takes another bite of his own before settling all of his weight into Ian’s side. 

“I missed you today,” Mickey says cheerily and holds another bite out for Ian. “A lot.” 

“Yeah, I missed you, too, Mi-baby,” he tests his luck and is rewarded with Mickey’s brightest smile yet. 

“I just love you so much, y’know...” Mickey mumbles, and suddenly the smile falls. “I just... Ian, I really fucking love you. You’re just, really fucking great. And sometimes...” he says and starts to cry. “Sometimes I just really don’t feel like I deserve you.” 

“Okay, Mickey, what the fuck? That’s not fucking true. What’s going on with you? You’re an emotional mess. You’re mad at me, then you’re sad...” Ian says, and then a light flicks on in his dusty ass attic of a brain. “You’re on your period, aren’t you?” 

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Mickey spits and pulls away from the comfort of Ian’s hold to glare at him. 

“I doesn’t mean anything, you drama queen,” Ian laughs and tugs Mickey’s blanket clad form back against himself with a chuckle. 

“Ay, don’t fucking laugh at me, Ian,” he warns. 

“Who’s laughing? Now shut up and finish your ice cream so we can go the fuck to bed.” 

Mickey finishes off the entire pint with a little help from Ian, and lets himself be lead to the bedroom. He climbs in first and gets the pillows situated just the way he wants them before he pulls back Ian’s side of the blanket and pats it impatiently. 

“No, take your shirt off,” he directs when Ian, the bastard, starts to climb in with a tank top on. 

“Why?” 

“Because your fucking skin is warmer. Don’t fucking question me, just do as you’re told. Fuck.” 

“Always thought I was the alpha here,” Ian smirks, even as he tosses the offending piece of clothing away. 

“Yeah, well you can take your alpha dick and go fuck yourself with it,” Mickey snarls as he lays against Ian’s naked chest, reveling in the heat against his cheek. Ian just chuckles, and Mickey likes the way that feels, too. 

“Jesus, I’m so fucking horny I’m about to start humping the god damn mattress,” Mickey whines with frustration. 

“Could take care of that, you know,” Ian shrugs, and Mickey pulls away from his hold so that Ian can fully see the disgust on his face. 

“You can take your red wings and fly the fuck away with that shit, nasty ass.” 

Ian huffs and rolls his eyes. “C’mere,” he instructs and threads his fingers through Mickey’s hair. “You need me to go get anything else tomorrow? Meds or, or tampons or whatever the fuck you use?” 

“I’d pay to see you get me my fucking shit,” Mickey laughs. “You’d come back with fucking gauze or something. Nah, man. I’m good. But don’t even think of touching my fucking rocky road. That’s my breakfast.”


End file.
